


this place is ours now

by cuubism



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e22 All Good Things..., Fluff and Angst, Head of the Institute Alec Lightwood, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Shadowhunter/Downworlder Relations, Weddings, weird musings about the Institute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22188955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuubism/pseuds/cuubism
Summary: The Institute is a difficult place for Magnus to be, even on his own wedding day.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 30
Kudos: 304
Collections: Favorite Malec Stories





	this place is ours now

The wedding reception was in full swing, and even with his newly-regained warlock tolerance, Magnus was feeling a bit tipsy. Loud music was pounding through the Institute, and the room was spinning a bit, and he couldn’t find Alec  _ anywhere.  _

A trill of nervousness ran through him as he scanned the room again and still came up empty. It was too soon after the whole Asmodeus…  _ thing  _ for Alec to be disappearing on him; a part of Magnus — a part that had been temporarily overrun by the flood of happiness in the wake of Edom’s destruction and their reunion — was still waiting for Alec to realize all over again that Magnus really was  _ too much.  _

It was just the wine igniting his residual trauma, Magnus knew that, but that didn’t mean he could tamp down the flutter in his stomach. 

He swiped open his phone to text his fiancé— no,  _ husband— _ only to find that Alec had already texted him.

_ Come up to the roof, I want to show you something. _

Magnus’s lips quirked up. He texted back:

_ You want to show me something, hmm? _

Alec sent back an eye-rolling emoji, and then:

_ I’m serious. Come on. _

So Magnus headed for the roof. 

It took him a long while to find his way there through the labyrinthine halls. 

The Institute was a structurally strange place — not that Magnus had had much opportunity to study it, beyond constructing its wards — but in the brief time he had lived there, he’d felt as though he never followed the same path twice, even when going to a familiar room. The effect was stronger the higher in the building he climbed, as though, just as the exterior shifted to glamour itself from mundanes, the interior would grow or shrink to accommodate its current number of Shadowhunters, would contort to foil intruders, or streamline to aid its residents. 

But of course, this was all conjecture — Magnus had never  _ seen  _ anything change, and his uncanny ability to get lost there, despite having a strong sense of direction elsewhere in his life, might just have had to do with his discomfort in a Shadowhunter-dominated space. 

Maybe.

But the building certainly didn’t seem to be working  _ for  _ him as he climbed countless flights of stairs towards the roof. Surely the Institute didn’t look this tall from the outside. Right?

Sure, he could have just portalled. But the combination of his drunkenness and the difficulty of navigating through wards made that seem like not the greatest idea. The last thing he needed was to end up in Timbuktu. 

Finally he reached the roof, breathing hard, to find Alec leaning against the railing, looking out over the city. 

And it was a spectacular view. Brooklyn stretched out below them like a city in miniature, running westward to the river, the Manhattan skyline beyond gleaming in the ever-bright sky. 

Magnus leaned on the railing beside Alec. Alec didn’t turn to him immediately, seemingly lost in his own head. 

“I’ve never been up here before,” Magnus ventured, looking down on the cars trundling along below. “Always got lost on the lower levels before I could find the right staircase.” 

He meant it as a joke, but it didn’t really land as one. Alec turned to him, taking in the still-rapid rise and fall of Magnus’s chest.

“You know we have an elevator,” Alec said, lips quirking up. 

“I’m not sure I trust elevators in buildings whose magic I don’t control,” Magnus said. It didn’t quite encapsulate his feelings, but it came close. He didn’t say:  _ I’m not normally claustrophobic, but sometimes, when I’m  _ here, _ I am.  _

“You’re really uncomfortable here,” Alec said, cutting right to the quick of the matter. It wasn’t a question.

Magnus opened his mouth to deny it. Stopped. “Sometimes,” he admitted. Alec’s gaze narrowed. “Okay,  _ most of the time.” _

“Has anyone—”

Magnus cut him off. “It’s not any person’s doing. In fact, the majority of your Shadowhunters have been quite gracious of late. The ones who aren’t naturally inclined to be so…” here he couldn’t help a small grin, “know better than to cross you, I suppose.”

Alec smiled grimly, as if to say,  _ damn right.  _

“I know what  _ your  _ Institute stands for, Alexander, that’s not it at all, I assure you,” Magnus continued, “it’s more…” he gestured around them, at the malignant bricks that seemed determined to thwart him, “the building itself. The history of it. Both personal and on a grander scale.”

Magnus forcibly suppressed the threads of that history that threatened to rise up and strangle him at their mere mention. He was not going to have a breakdown right now. “Often, when I’m here — even surrounded by friends and family — I feel…” the word got stuck in his throat. The look on Alec’s face was growing more fragile by the second. Magnus shouldn’t say it. He had to. “Trapped.” 

Alec buried his face in his hands, leaning on the railing again. “Magnus, I’m sorry. I should have known. I should never have suggested it for tonight.”

Magnus was surprised to find that hearing Alec shoulder this lifted a weight off his chest. Maybe this time, he didn’t have to internalize the blame for how he felt. 

Nevertheless: “I could have shot it down.” 

Alec shook his head. “No, I should’ve known better. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I was so caught up in the message we were sending, I didn’t think—” 

“—Well, I’m always one for a good ‘fuck you’ to the Clave—” 

“—I wanted them to  _ see us. _ To be forced to see us where they couldn’t look away.”

“And I wanted that, too. Still want that. It’s a worthwhile goal.” 

“But not at the cost of hurting you on a day you’ve been looking forward to for  _ centuries.” _ Alec turned to him then, pain in his eyes, and Magnus stepped into his space, taking his face between his palms.

“Alec. Listen to me. I’m  _ fine.  _ Location is not the most important thing about a wedding. The most important thing is the  _ people. _ And I have everyone I love most here with me tonight. Okay?” Magnus watched Alec nod, his expression clearing a bit. “I’m  _ so happy, _ darling, I promise you. I wasn’t even thinking about this until I tried to climb up here and the damn hallways kept redirecting me.”

Alec’s nose scrunched up. “The  _ what—” _

“Never mind. We’ll talk about it later.” Magnus pressed a soft kiss to Alec’s lips, then stepped back. “Now, you wanted to show me something?” He lifted a suggestive eyebrow, and Alec rolled his eyes in a parody of their earlier text conversation. 

Alec grinned, the air finally cleared between them. “Just this.”

He held out his hand, and his bow materialized in his grip in a glimmer of magic. Magnus still didn’t understand quite how he did that. Was it just glamoured? Was it actually teleporting? He made a mental note to investigate. 

“Darling, I am intimately familiar with this weapon,” Magnus said, “if you’ll recall, I do technically own it—”

_ “Mag _ nus,” Alec groaned, but he was smiling wide. “Just hold on for a second.” 

Magnus crossed his arms over his chest, grinning back at him. “Very well.” 

Alec slowly nocked an arrow as he talked. “I used to come up here to shoot when I was upset. It was more cathartic watching the arrows fly off into the distance than shooting at a target.” 

Magnus grimaced, imagining Alec after a particularly bad hunt or meeting or fight with his parents, fingers bloody and slipping on the bowstring, loosing arrow after arrow into the night. It was a sight he’d seen more than once, unfortunately. 

“But I—” Alec cleared his throat. “I find that I don’t want to do that, as much, anymore. I’d rather talk to you.” 

Magnus swallowed against the sudden thickness of his throat. “Alexander—” 

“Just wait. I’m almost done.” He aimed somewhere in the distance, but didn’t draw yet. “There’s still something thrilling about just firing into the air. Power, without needing to hurt anyone. I don’t know. I wanted to figure out something I could do that would keep that aspect of it, but remove the need for pain.

“I remember you said once that you love stars. I can’t really bring you stars in New York, what with all the light pollution, but I  _ can  _ do this.” With that, he drew, and let the arrow fly off into the night. 

Magnus watched it until he couldn’t see it anymore, and they waited for a moment in darkness. Just when he was wondering what exactly he was supposed to be looking for, he saw it: a glimmer of light that grew into a flame, and then burst outward.

Magnus couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him as the firework shattered into the sky, raining glimmering silver embers down above them. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt true  _ wonder. _ He felt like a child again, or rather, like he’d been transported to the childhood he was supposed to have.

He looked over to Alec to see his reaction to his handiwork, only to find Alec already looking at him with the most enraptured expression on his face. Magnus watched the last of the sparks reflect in Alec’s eyes, and realized that he was wrong. He experienced wonder every day. 

“Alexander,” Magnus said, overwhelmed, “it’s beautiful.” 

“I’m glad you like them, because I have more.” Alec nocked three arrows at once and fired, and Magnus watched as first a blue, then a red, then a yellow firework exploded into being above them.

“The mundanes will be wondering what holiday we’re celebrating,” Magnus laughed, his throat closing up again for an entirely different reason. 

“Oh, they can’t see them,” Alec said, as if it was nothing at all, “these are just for you.”

Magnus had already cried once at this wedding, and he had promised himself he wouldn’t do it again. But it was too late: tears were streaming down his face in time with the falling stars; he sniffed, tried to compose himself. Failed. 

“Hey, don’t cry,” Alec said, coming to wrap him in a hug, bow still awkwardly clasped in one hand. 

“Happy tears, my dear,” Magnus promised him as he clung to Alec’s shirt. It was maybe...not quite true. More than anything, he felt overwhelmed — so much love and loss, world-ending catastrophe and tiny miracle in such a short time frame couldn’t be good for one’s heart, especially an immortal one. 

Magnus would take it, though. He’d happily let all of this emotion cascade over him like the crescendo of overlapping fireworks if it meant he got to have  _ this: _ Alec, in his arms; magic, at his fingertips; his family, waiting downstairs to welcome him back into the dance. 

He managed to compose himself, though he felt the well of his emotion lingering just below his skin, sure to resurface later. He straightened his jacket, throwing a smile at Alec. “Got any more?”

Alec grinned. “As many as you want.” 

He fired several more off in quick succession, and Magnus watched the way his shoulders strained at his dress shirt. “Something tells me the Clave wouldn’t approve of this,” he said, just to get a reaction.

Alec snorted. “It’s  _ my  _ Institute, I can launch fireworks of the roof if I damn well want to.” 

He was right. It was his Institute, and Magnus knew that Alec’s Institute was also, in a way, his own: protective of Magnus, and of all Downworlders. A building beginning to make up for its history.

More than that, Magnus thought as he watched Alec continue to fire arrows off into the night, a huge grin on his face, his movements relaxed and easy, perhaps the Institute was starting to  _ feel  _ like Alec’s now, too. Was starting to be the shelter it was always supposed to be, but had never been for him. 

He might’ve had to rebuild the damn thing brick by brick, but it was finally starting to lift Alec up, instead of holding him down.

Maybe, just maybe, many years in the future, it would do the same for Magnus. Maybe one day he’d be able to come here and see only Alec waiting for him at the end of the aisle, and sparring in the training room, and the fireworks.

Baby steps. 

As the sky filled with color and light, Magnus pulled Alec back into his arms, spinning him slowly in a formless dance. “I love this,” he said, watching the light play on Alec’s face. “I love you.” 

“I love you so much, please tell me when being here is upsetting you,” Alec said, and kissed him. 

“I will,” Magnus murmured against his mouth, “I promise. The fireworks are helping.” 

“Good.”

Alec kissed him again, deeper. Magnus was just about done with talking for the evening, but he couldn’t resist one last dig. “You know, I was alive before fireworks were even inven—”

“No you were  _ not, _ Magnus, that is  _ not _ true, and you know it!”

Magnus laughed, bright and loud, and pulled Alec back in. 

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr if you want: @cuubism


End file.
